


hospes

by shadowcat500



Series: Plaguetober 2020 [25]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fire Magic, Gen, Original Mythology, Plague Doctors, Plaguetober 2020, Platonic Relationships, Storms, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27197614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowcat500/pseuds/shadowcat500
Summary: The party takes shelter from a storm in the house of Nimbus' alchemy teacher.
Series: Plaguetober 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948417





	hospes

**Author's Note:**

> 25/10 Host

“You really don’t have to-”

“I insist, I couldn’t just leave one of my students out in the cold, could I?” 

Bubjin Ecomis, 118th Head Researcher of Toxic Alchemy at Streata Academy, opens his door wide open to his student and their friends. A mercenary (it’s all in the stance and the set of the shoulders) in a mask and hood, a plague doctor with a thick fur stole, a young girl in a red cloak, and one of Bubjin’s favourite students in the grey cloak of a wind mage. Rumours had rapidly spread around the country in days of the small party, seeking ingredients for the cure for the dreaded sickness going round. Bubjin himself had barely left his home in the past few week, daring only to head to the shops for food when necessary. It was hardly his fault: he would have become an adventurer or travelling poison-seller if he was the danger-loving sort, and a plague that makes your _skin fall off_ qualifies in every sane person’s eyes as _quite_ the danger.

The hooded mercenary shifts. “We’ll find an inn or something in town, if you’ll let Kuriko stay with you too.”

The red-cloaked girl, who must be Kuriko, wraps a hand around the plague doctor’s arm and levels a challenging look at the mercenary. “I’m staying with Dahlia.” An odd accent, rolling in a way he couldn’t quite place.

“No, you’re staying here. Look, it’s bucketing down. You’ll get the flu.” Dahlia (Bubjin assumes) gestures up at the opening heavens. (Personally Bubjin thinks that someone pissed off Ireus: it’s pouring like they and Zeznia plan to drown the city.)

Bubjin can sense an argument brewing in Kuriko’s stony expression and Dahlia’s set shoulders, so he defuses is before it can lead to him standing in his doorway for half an hour while they get it out of their systems. “Why don’t you all come inside? There’s plenty of room.”

“Sir, I really-” Nimbus looks nervous: always did get anxious over the smallest of things.

“Nonsense! Come inside!” He opens the door wider, ignoring the fact that the handle is going to leave dents in the wallpaper. 

Each member of the party glances at each other, shrugs, and comes in, wiping their feet on the mat.

Kuriko almost invisbly tugs on Dahlia’s sleeve and whispers “Do we need to take our shoes off?” Smart child: manners can never be taught too young.

Dahlia looks to the mercenary, who in turn shrugs and whispers back. “They’re wet anyway: it’d be a good choice whether or not we need to. Pass your things to me and I’ll dry them out before they drip all over the floor.”

Bubjin wanders to the kitchen and flicks the kettle on, absent-mindedly hearing the sounds of the group handing their cloaks and shoes over to the mercenary.

“Mr Ecomis? Do you mind if I use your bathroomto dry our things? It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.”

“Go ahead!” He pulls down a teapot and some whitepoint teabags, along with five mugs. (He lives alone, and by all accounts shouldn’t have more than three mugs. But mugs are the favourite gift on Hika’s Day, and he isn’t afraid to admit he’s a sucker for a good design.) Behind him, he hears two of the others shuffle past into his living room. Curious: where’s the other one? Before he can turn around for his answer, the kettle dings. 

“What kind of tea is that?” Nimbus sounds like they’re pretty close behind him: he shouldn’t turn around with anything hot in his hands in case they’re too close and make him jump.

“Whitepoint leaf. I was in a hurry when was last in the store, this isn’t my normal blend. Tastes a little funny—” He picks up the kettle and starts pouring it into the mugs. “—but what can you do.” He passes a full mug to Nimbus. “There’s yours.”

“Thanks. I take it one of those is for Rian? I’ll bring it to him.”

“That would be kind of you.” Bubjin passes another full mug to Nimbus, who walks off towards the bathroom by the front door. Bubjin picks up the other two and heads to his living room, to be immediately greeted by Dahlia, who is holding Kuriko in her arms and staring intensely at the worn couch.

“Are we allowed to—?”

“Go ahead.” He gestures with a mug towards the couch, and she nods and sits down. The mask she was wearing is off, and is currently held in Kuriko’s lap. 

The pair sits down and Bubjin hands them their tea. Dahlia nods her thanks before taking a sip, and Kuriko appears too distracted downing the drink as fast as possible to thank him. The worn leather mask is carefully taken out of her lap by Dahlia, who places it gently on the coffee table. 

Nimbus comes back after a moment. “Rian says thanks.”

“Tell him I said he’s welcome.”

Nimbus immediately turns back around and walks right back into the bathroom. Bubjin hears a quick murmur of voices before Nimbus comes back and gives him a thumbs up before taking their tea and sitting down. They appear happy enough to merely hold the hot liquid, which is fair enough: they never seemed to be much of a tea person when he was teaching them.

“How is adventuring treating you, my student? Is it as freeing as you thought it’d be?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s treating me plenty well enough. The travelling is nice, and I went through a necromancer’s lair once, along with a whole bunch of caves. I’ve made some friends,” They gesture with their free hand towards Dahlia and Kuriko, then towards where Rian is in the bathroom. “So it’s going great. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Classes are cancelled because of the blood plague, but I’m still getting paid. Speaking of your friend, wouldn’t he appreciate company? It seems cruel, to leave him to dry everything out while we chat in here.”

“Rian? He’s said himself he can’t relax if he doesn’t know his things will be usable tomorrow, and he doesn’t like having to juggle small talk when he’s trying to focus.”

Bubjin files that factoid away for future reference and continues with another line of questioning. “How does he plan to dry out your things, anyhow?”

“He’s a caster, fire specialty.”

“And he can maintain a low flame long enough to dry something out? Rina’s student’s could learn a thing or two from him!”

“Ms _Thorne’s_ student’s? As in the best of the best fire mages?”

“You’d be surprised how many mages forget the basics when they’re training to use their magic as a weapon. It’s the bane of every teacher I’ve met.”

Nimbus barks a laugh. “You should tell Rian that, it’d make him laugh. He can appreciate good company while he’s working.”

“Is that an attempt to make me go talk to your friend?”

“…Yeah. He’s been acting weird lately, maybe he’d appreciate talking to someone new. I haven’t known him long enough to tell.”

Bubjin shrugs and walks off. He might as well talk to Rian, the mercenary who’s drying his friend’s clothes in Bubjin’s bathroom. He’s never liked the typical mercenary, money-hungry and blood-thirsty, but the kind of merc who acts in such generosity to his friends that he’d drain himself so much other something so small as drying his friends’ clothes is someone he’d like to meet.

***

“You’re a fire mage, correct?”

Rian starts, flame guttering before flaring back up. “Huh? No. Just a caster. Flame speciality.” He readjusts the drape of Kuriko’s cloak over the length of his arm and holds the fire a little closer to the fabric. His left foot is braced on the edge of the bathtub so the cloak drips into the bath, which Bubjin appreciates as well as the fact that the rest of the soaked clothing is in a pile in the sink.

“Magic is magic, warrior. Your control is excellent: I’ve never seen a mage hold such a low flame for so long without getting bored or flaring it up. Every fighting elemental mage I’ve met has the same forgotten basics.”

Rian huffs a laugh. “Really? Never heard a professional mage have anything to say about a caster’s skills before, let alone anything positive.” 

“I’m not a mage, not even a caster. Most mages try to add their magic or will to potions without being trained in how to use it first. Nimbus is the first mage I’ve known to wait to learn first: that’s why they’ve made it so long in my class.” They’d been so nervous too: Bubjin had felt compelled to tell them they were doing better than any mage he’d taught so far.

Rian moves Kuriko’s dried cloak over to a vacant bar on the towel rack, and picks up Nimbus’ cloak to dry it in the same fashion. “What _is_ your class?”

“Toxic Alchemy. Poisons and such.”

“Dahlia’d love you forever if you told her that.”

“Why?”

“She’s vehement on alchemy meaning potion-making, rather than chemistry. She spent three hours arguing to point with a stranger in an inn a week or two ago.”

“I’ll make sure to tell her.”

The conversation runs out of steam and Bubjin remembers that Rian apparently dislikes small talk, so he wanders back into the main room where both Dahlia and Nimbus have taken books out of their bags. Nimbus is reading in silence while Dahlia appears to be telling Kuriko about the Cult of the Deathless and the Heroes that defeated them.

“-so Jasiri was trained in the use of a leg-breaker-spear, which is one of those ones with a shield on the end that can be removed to be used as a regular spear and shield or swung around to smash into people. I’ve met other devotees of Malach and let me tell you, it is _something_ to see them smash a shield into someone’s torso from six feet away.”

“Like a war hammer?”

“Sort of, but not as heavy. Like a cross between a war hammer and a staff: the weight of a war hammer and the agility of a staff. And the head is a disc and has a spike that can be used in emergencies.”

“I think I saw someone with a weapon like that come through the village a few months ag- before everything. They asked for some witch hazel for their hands, chatted to me about their weapon while dad got the remedy ready. They let me hold it for a few seconds and it was so heavy!”

Dahlia nods and hums at a few places while Kuriko chatters on about the warrior and their odd weapon. (Last Bubjin had checked leg-breaker-spears were first made around the declaration of the Hundredth-Year Heroes, when Malach had taught smiths how to make the weapon he’d brought with him from the heavens. How strange that the girl didn’t know what they were.)

He settles down on his usual chair and continues the book he was reading: a romance set in an adventuring partnership out to kill a dragon. She, a brave swordswoman: he, a bow-wielding jaded mercenary. It’s been pretty decent so far. He has high hopes for the pair’s future, and pretty low ones for the future living prospects of that dragon.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i really did name a fic for the prompt "host" the latin word for host
> 
> finally im on time! works till the 28th are already written so there shouldnt be any more delays till the 29th at least
> 
> Check out my [ tumblr](https://existentialcrisisetcetera.tumblr.com/tagged/zach%20writes)!
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated!


End file.
